


The Hunter and the Witch

by violettavioletta



Series: The Good Witch [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: F/M, I still don't know supernatural, lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29491287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violettavioletta/pseuds/violettavioletta
Summary: With no leads on his case and nowhere else to turn, Dean writes to an old friend- Hermione Granger. It becomes clear pretty quickly that their feelings for each other never died. Sequel to The Good Witch. Rating for language.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Dean Winchester
Series: The Good Witch [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168964
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to my story "The Good Witch", and you probably ought to read that one if you want this one to make any sense. As I mentioned in that story, I wrote both that story and the beginnings of this story when I was a young teen, and just found them tucked away in my notes on my old laptop. I've got maybe ten thousand words written on this one. I'll post what I've got, and then, if there's interest, I'll keep writing- but please keep in mind that I only ever saw half a season of Supernatural and haven't watched it in years, and only wrote this because I had read and enjoyed other Dean/Hermione fics.

He didn't know what else to do.

He'd tried to avoid it, he really had. He and Sam has been to pretty much every hunter in the country, seeing if anyone knew anything about the strange, dark, gloomy, seemingly magical signature that interfered with instruments and sometimes blew up those with more sensitive electronics that seemed to be radiating throughout Salem. But no person and no book had had any idea what could be causing it, leaving him with only one choice.

He had to go to Hermione.

He was sure it was related to her and her... world. Hell, she'd told him she couldn't use phones because her magic blew them up, a symptom of the weird Salem case. So, while Sam was asleep, he snuck into the Impala and dug the address she'd given him out of the glovebox, where it had sat for over two years. He wasn't even entirely sure it was a real address, it didn't look like one. There was no area code, no street number. It didn't look like an address at all. In fact, all Hermione had written on the paper those two years ago was _Hermione J.G. Weasley, Nowhere in Particular, London._ As soon as he'd seen it, he'd cursed, thinking it was some plot to get rid of him. If it was, it had worked. Though he'd been tempted, he'd refrained from contacting her for years, if only because he'd never found a true reason besides missing her when he was drunk. Now, however, he knew he didn't have a choice. He had to contact her. Swallowing his pride, he sat down in the passenger side in front of the glovebox and started penning a letter.

* * *

Three days later, he and Sam were leaving the motel they'd checked into to try and find some weird library Sam had researched that he hoped might have answers when he looked in his rearview mirror.

She was in the backseat.

In a second, Sam had a gun on her, and looked shocked that Dean wasn't doing the same. There was a tense moment as all three stared at each other out of the corners of their eyes, waiting for the first live. Suddenly, Hermione's laugh broke the silence.

"I take it you didn't tell whoever this is about me, Dean?" she finally managed to ask, still a hint of a laugh in her voice. God, he'd missed that laugh.

"No", Dean admitted, "I... I didn't think you'd actually get the letter."

"Didn't think it was a real address?" she said, a knowing glint in her eyes. He nodded.

"As great as this all is", Sam cut in, his gun still aimed at Hermione, "I still don't know who the fuck you are!"

Hermione turned to Dean. "Put the gun down, Sammy", he said finally, "Meet Hermione Weasley. Hermione, meet Sam Winchester, my little brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother", Hermione said, a little warily.

"He's been away", Dean said simply. "Sam, Hermione has some... expertise on magical signatures. I wrote to her and asked for help."

"Someone you met while I was away, I take it?"

"Yep", Dean responded, "And honestly, I think the two of you will like each other. She's a freaking nerd, like you. Doctor of Chemistry or something, right?"

"Yeah", said Hermione, as Sam's eyes widened a bit, "But I never really used the title. Dr Weasley didn't suit me. Anyway, we'll need to go to my place. You'll have to let me drive."

Sam and Dean looked at each other for a moment. Then, as if they'd planned it, they both began to laugh.

"Sorry, Sweetheart", Dean managed to choke out, "But if you think I'm just going to let you..."

"I have a drivers license. We do have those _where I'm from_ ", she cut him off, choosing her words delicately so as not to tip off Sam, who she'd gathered wasn't in on her secret and would probably like it about as much as Dean had, "And my parents made me get one. If you'll remember, my house is... off the beaten path. Trust me when I say you'll _never find it_."

Sam continued to smirk, but Dean's face shifted as he remembered his last experience at Hermione's house. As soon as he'd stepped outside, the house and any sign of its existence had vanished. Though he had no way of knowing what the Fidelius Charm was, she knew he'd realized from her words that the house was spelled against him. If the Fidelius had been the only charm on the home, she probably could've gotten away with just telling him the address and instructing him as he drove, but it was also swimming in muggle-repellants and various wards set off by strangers, typical precautions for a witch or wizard who didn't want to be sighted by neighbors and suffer a fate similar to Ariana Dumbledore's. Sighing, Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road, much to Sam's shock.

"Wait", he sputtered, "You're actually letting her..."

"Yes", Dean said simply, leaving no room for argument, "Now move over, I get shotgun."

"It's a bit of a drive", Hermione warned, settling into the driver's seat, "Feel free to fall asleep, if you'd like. Goodness, it's been a while since I've driven. I'm close enough to walk to work, you'll understand, and it's not as if I can just drive home to England... not that I'd want to..."

Her words seemed to have Dean rethinking his decision to give her his keys, but it was too late. She flashed her passengers a slightly reckless smile before slamming her foot on the gas, and they were off.

She really was a terrible driver, Dean thought. It could be the Brit in her, he reasoned, maybe she just wasn't used to driving in the right side. But he was being generous, and he knew it. No one was that bad of a driver due to just a bit of confusion.

She hadn't lied, it really was a long drive. A few hours in, Sam had fallen asleep. Hermione kept her eyes on the road, but she began to speak softly, as if to herself. Dean knew he was being addressed, though.

"Mum and Dad made me get a license when I was of age, just like all the other kids on my street. I fought them over it- I mean, when would I ever need one? Don't tell anyone, but I Confunded the examiner. That's kind of like... a confusion spell, I guess? Because I'd failed parallel parking, and I thought that was just so dumb, because we had a _driveway_ , and I was a goddamn _witch_ , it wasn't like it was a skill I'd ever need. Faked all the paperwork, too. It's why I'm such a terrible driver. Don't worry, though, I won't crash your car. And if I do, I'll fix it right up. Still, they probably shouldn't have given me a license. Perks of being a witch. And two days after I got that license, I obliviated my parents. Wiped their memories of me. Made them go into hiding where they'd be safe from the war. Got the license, used it once, then went off to go fight a war. Anyway. Since I got that license, I doubt I've driven ten times, just to the grocery store for my parents a few times and once to the train station to catch a train to see an old Professor. Could've flooed to her office, but ah. Nostalgia. Ron had a car, inherited it from his Dad. He wasn't going to get a license, though, he didn't intend to drive the car on the road. It could fly, you'll understand. I tried to make him a few times, before... before it all happened, but he was firm. I don't know what happened to the car. I suppose it's still in our driveway, in Britain. I couldn't bring myself to sell our house, but of course I couldn't live in it either, so I just left it as is and used all the wards I knew to lock it out from the world... it's much easier to ward off a house when you're not living in it, you'll understand. You can get pretty damn close to making it completely impenetrable. I had Bill try to get in- that's my brother-in-law, he's a curse breaker- anyway, I had him try to get in through my spells, and he couldn't. Figured that was the best I'd get. Put a stasis charm over everything, if I went back right now, the glass of milk I left on the counter would still be good, after I'd fought my way through my wards. That's protocol for a wizard spelling an area off with a stasis, to leave a glass of milk, so they'll know if it's been disturbed. Oh dear, I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

She turned to Dean, who's eyes were starting to droop off. "Sure are, Sweetheart", he mumbled, "But I don't mind it. In fact, I think it's kinda cute."

With that, he was asleep.

 _Sweetheart_. She'd never liked the American endearment, but coming from him... well, it was no _Mione_. But she couldn't say it was too terrible. Perhaps, in another lifetime, she may have even thought it was rather nice.


	2. Chapter 2

They were both asleep when she pulled up to the house, around twelve hours after she'd apparated (silently, a skill that had taken her years to master) into the backseat. Gently, she reached over to Dean, shaking him awake.

Immediately, his hands were at her throat. But Hermione wasn't a war hero for nothing, and Dean wasn't the only one in the car fighting PTSD. Her wand was at his throat even faster than he'd brought his hands to hers. They stared a moment, and then slowly let go of each other.

"I won't shake you next time", she said gently. She was about to turn to the door when, suddenly, she heard the cock of a gun and felt a barrel pressed against her head.

"Drop the stick." Sam's voice was cold, unwavering.

"Sammy, come on now, come on inside and we'll explain..."

"I don't know what kind of... Confundey thing... you've done on him, but I'm not stupid", Sam hissed, "I heard you. I know you were having a laugh, talking about your little spell to your victim. Now _drop. Your. Stick._ Witch."

Sighing, Hermione did as asked. "I don't know what I need to do to convince you..."

"Shut up!" he yelled shortly, moving an arm around her from behind, pinning her. Her eyes widened.

"Sammy, I don't think you wanna do that..." Dean said urgently, remembering her reaction the last time he'd restrained her, but it was too late, Hermione was unconscious. Sam looked to Dean, his resolved faltering. Usually, knocking a witch out ended the spell, but Dean's expression didn't change.

"She does that if you pin her down. Aftereffect of something she went through a while ago." Dean sighed. "Come on them, let's get her inside. I promise, we'll explain when she wakes up, we should've done it first, but, well, I was afraid you'd do that. Pick up her wand, would you? She gets really touchy if she doesn't have it."

Shocked, Sam did as he was told as his brother scooped Hermione from the driver's seat, locking the door behind him as he carried her to the house.

* * *

The house, recognizing that its occupant was in distress, let the Winchesters in without a key, and Dean was happy to find that his somewhat shaky memory of the house was able to lead him to her living room (though perhaps that was the house's magic, the path to the room did seem unusually clear). He set her down gently on her couch before turning to his brother, an annoyed look on his face.

"Put her wand in the holder by the door, she's got one in every room", he said shortly, "Then follow me into the kitchen. I'll explain. You just had to knock her out, didn't you?"

Sam started to protest that he hadn't tried to do anything, but was silent at his brother's glare. He did as told and sat down at the table once he reached the kitchen. It was a nice kitchen, though apart from the table, stove and a few doors he gathered were probably cabinets, it was hard to tell that that was what it was. She had no refrigerator that he could see, and much like the rest of her house that he'd seen so far, books filled every spare corner. Bookshelves lined the walls, and stacks of books with papers and notes sticking out of them cluttered the table. Glancing at a title, he realized what he was looking at- a spellbook. Remembering the situation, he turned to Dean. This better be good.

"I didn't lie to you, Sammy", Dean said, shifting a few books so that he was able to sit across from his brother, "I just didn't tell you the whole truth, is all."

"You better have a damn good reason why I shouldn't go in there and kill her", Sam responded flatly, looking at his brother expectedly. Dean took a deep breath.

"She's a witch. You're right about that. But she isn't... Sam, she isn't _our_ type of witch. In fact, we've... we've never met a real witch.

"The witches we deal with sell their souls for a bit of magic. But... you won't believe this... there's an entire underground worldwide community of people who were _born_ with their magic. She's one of them. She went to some magic boarding school and fought in some war and now she's a war hero and a... um... something about potions that's equivalent to a doctorate in chemistry."

Sam stared warily. "That what she told you?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. And I believe her."

"Why?"

Dean thought for only a moment. "Because I watched her tell the story. She was so... so _young_ during that war. It was hard not to believe her. Two years later, and I still can't forget what her face looked like."

There was silence as both men considered what had been said. Finally, Sam seemed to accept it. "So why did she pass out?"

Dean sighed. "They tortured her real bad during the war with some weird curse thing. Still had aftereffects, one of which being that she's out for a day or two any time her magic gets worked up. It does that when she panics, and she seems to always panic when you restrain her."

Sam stood. "So, guess we're stuck here?"

Dean nodded. "Until she wakes up. I really do think she can help us with what's going on in Salem. She probably already knows what's up. If we leave the house, we won't be able to find it again, that's what she meant in the car. Otherwise I wouldn't have let her drive." He smirked a little.

Sam mirrored his expression. "Yeah, I wondered. Figured she'd put a spell on you, though. No way you'd let anyone drive that car otherwise."

* * *

That night, Sam and Dean threw together a meal from Hermione's meager kitchen supplies (mostly vegetables, to Dean's dismay) before eventually falling asleep on Hermione's couches, not wanting to snoop through her house. Dean had also told Sam to avoid the books and pretty much everything else in the house until Hermione woke up, as a lot of things were cursed. This meant there wasn't much to do besides fall asleep early. Dean took the other couch in Hermione's living room, while Sam made his way to a cozy little room at the back of the house.

When Dean woke up, there was a _head_ in the fireplace.

"Hermione?" thé head called, "It's Ginny. Are you awake?"

"What the fuck", Dean whispered, but apparently the head in the fireplace heard him, because it turned. Though it was hardly visible in the fire, the head blushed.

"Oh!" the head, which seemed to belong to a woman about Hermione's age, exclaimed, "I... I didn't realize she had... had company... I guess... tell her... tell her Ginny called..."

"Wait", Dean said quickly, deciding to screw caution for the moment, "I... it's not... like that. We're not... I mean... Hermione's unconscious. She got scared, and... who are you?"

The woman's - Ginny's?- entire face changed. She now looked accusatory. "What happened?" she demanded.

"I... well... you promise not to kill me? Or..: can you even kill me? Or are you just like... some sort of... trapped in a fireplace... entity... thing..."

Ginny seemed to comprehend something. "You're a Muggle", she said flatly.

Dean blinked, remembering Hermione using the term. "Yeah."

"You have ten seconds to tell me what the fuck an American Muggle is doing in Hermione Granger's house."

 _Granger._ Must be Hermione's maiden name. "I'm gonna need more than ten seconds, Sweetheart, so I'd get comfortable in that fire, if I were you."

The woman scowled. "Don't call me Sweetheart."

Dean smirked, just a bit. "Fine. My name is Dean Winchester. I met Hermione a few years ago when we wound up teaching at the same school. I hunt... dangerous things, and I was hunting something that killed a girl. I thought it was Hermione at first. I thought she was an evil witch, she thought I was a Death Eater, I didn't even know what that was, we had a great song and dance. In the end we got on alright and she told me to come to her if I needed help again. Well, I needed help again, so I came to her, but I brought my brother this time, and he didn't take too kindly to her at first. Also thought she was some sort of evil witch, tried to grab her. It didn't go well."

He thought she'd have a million angry questions, but to his surprise, her face seemed to brighten. "So you're the famous old sot who was 'the worst at chemistry she's ever seen.'"

Dean blushed, just a little. "Guess so."

"She mentioned you once. Only a little bit, my son was quite sick at the time, so she didn't really get into it. Never thought you had a name."

Comprehension dawned on Dean. "You're her sister-in-law!"

Ginny grinned. "Yeah, and her best friend. We usually talk every morning. Tell me, have you been doing anything for her?"

"What? You mean like, medicine or whatever?"

Ginny nodded as well as she could in the fireplace. "In her bathroom medicine cabinet, you'll find a blue bottle. You need a password to get in, try either Lily, Severus or Albus, she usually uses one of those. No penalty for guessing, so if they don't work just keep guessing names until you get something right. Grab that bottle and put one drop into her mouth every fifteen minutes, she should be up and about in two hours at most. You're lucky it's summer, or she'd kill you as soon as she woke up for making her miss her classes."

Dean nodded. "Will do." Ginny raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement, and seemed about to leave when Dean asked, "How come she can find this house and I can't?"

Ginny considered for a second. "Well, she's never told me or anyone exactly what her wards are, and she invented a lot of them, so it's hard to be sure. But I know her foundational ward is a Fidelius, which basically keeps a place secret from anyone who hasn't been told it's location by the Secret Keeper. Why?"

"Because I'd kill for a cheeseburger", growled Dean, "And all she has are hard, inedible cracker things."

Ginny rolled her eyes, muttering "Americans" as she did. "That's a _biscuit._ And if you want one that bad, go get one, she'll be awake soon after you give her that potion to get you. You said you had a brother?"

Dean smirked. "Great idea. Thanks, Sweetheart."

" _Don't_ call me Sweetheart."


	3. Chapter 3

He should have fucking known, Sam thought hotly to himself. He should have fucking known the damn thing would be booby trapped.

He hadn't been snooping. At least, not much. After Dean's conversation with the girl in the fireplace- Ginny, she said she was called?- Sam had been put in charge of administering the potion every fifteen minutes, while Dean had run out to get some real food. After the last administration, he hadn't been able to help it, he'd found himself drawn to her wand. He'd picked it up before, so he figured it'd be safe, but apparently he was wrong. As soon as he'd given it a little wave, more out of curiosity than anything else, the damn thing had exploded.

"Son of a _bitch_ ", he hissed.

"Bit you, did it?" said a pleasant British voice behind him. He jumped, but managed to keep from lunging at her, remembering what had happened last time.

"I... what?"

"The wand. It bit you."

Sam stared at his blistered hand, his fingers so swollen they pushed against each other painfully. "I... I think so?"

The small woman gave him a stern look, swinging her feet around and standing up as if she'd never been unconscious at all. "They do that. They're very loyal to their owners, wands. I assume you were trying to use it? My mum used to wave it about sometimes when she thought I wasn't looking. You needn't bother, you're a Muggle, you couldn't make it do anything. But you happen to be a Muggle whose last act was to knock me unconscious and take my wand. I dare say if Dean had tried, it would've just done nothing, but it doesn't like you. It wanted revenge."

"Well, that's all well and good", Sam growled, "But it doesn't change the fact that my fingers are the size of oranges."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Maybe you shouldn't play with other people's belongings, then. Wand bites are tricky, they don't heal with normal magic, especially not with normal magic performed by the same wand, and it's the only wand we've got right now. I'll get you a pain reliever and then I'll call up a friend who's an expert on the subject, she can bring some bite salve."

Snatching the wand off the floor where Sam has dropped it, Hermione mumbled, "accio pain reliever." Though Sam knew she was a witch, it was still a bit astonishing to see a small vial floating through the air into Hermione outstretched hand.

"Drink that", she said briskly.

Grateful for any reprieve from the "bite"'s intense pain, Sam choked it down. Hermione watched him, seemingly waiting for something, but absolutely nothing happened. After a few moments of confusion, her eyes lit up.

"Of course", she muttered, "I don't know why I didn't think of it." She waved her wand again, and a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol flew into her hand. "Mum and Dad gave me those when I moved. I thought it was stupid, I'd never use them, but I guess they were right. Pain relief potions work by commandeering your own magic and using it to shield your nerves, which mutes the pain. As you've not got any magic, it wouldn't have an effect. In fact, you may start to feel a bit sick, the ingredients aren't what most would call pleasant." At least she had the decency to look ashamed about that, he'd been starting to feel like an experiment of hers.

"Anyway, you take those, probably a few more than you'd usually take- wand bites can get bad, not sure how bad on Muggles. The bite salve should still work, it has a magical base, meaning it doesn't draw from your magic but from the brewer's magic. Not the sort of things people just keep lying around though, wands don't bite their owners."

God, this girl was a chatterbox.

His jaw dropped as he watched her next move. She took a handful of some sort of weird powder from a box on the mantle. She threw it into the fire, which turned an odd green. And then she knelt down and stuck her _head_ in the flames.

"Oi!" he started, but then paused. Her head didn't burn, as he'd thought it would- rather, it _disappeared._

Oh, this witch thing was so, so weird.

A few minutes passed, and then Hermione pulled her entirely unburned head out of the flames. She was closely followed by a very thin woman. She had curly blond hair pulled into a very long, very thick braid down her back, and wore a strange, billowing robe-like dress. Though the dress (robe?) went all the way to the floor, he noticed as she stepped out of the fireplace that she wasn't wearing shoes.

"Sam, meet Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is Sam Winchester", Hermione introduced quickly.

"Hey", Sam said cautiously. Luna studied him a moment.

"Hello", she said airily, "You must be the brother of the chemistry teacher fraud? Hermione tells me he wasn't so bright, either."

"Luna!" Hermione hissed, but Luna didn't seem to hear. Her attention was entirely focused on Sam's hand. "Definitely a wand bite, then?"

"Um, I gave her wand a wave and it just kind of... exploded on me, so I guess so?"

Luna looked from his hand to his face, confused. "It wasn't a question."

They exchanged no more conversation as she quickly spread the salve over his hand. He was amazed to see his hand almost instantly return to a near-normal state, leaving it only very slightly pink.

"Careful with hot and sharp things for a few days", she cautioned, "But overall, it's certainly not the worst wand bite I've seen. The wand didn't so much despise you as distrust you. This was more of a warning shot."

"Thanks", he said, eying her carefully. Her eyes seemed to look past his, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. She was a weird one, no doubt about it.

"Would you like to stay for tea, Luna?" Hermione offered, "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"Well, whose fault is that, running off to America like that?" Clearly, the two women were close.

"Um, sorry to intrude", Sam ventured, "But I think Dean and I ate most of your food last night, Hermione, sorry about that. He's gone out to get more."

Her eyes widened. "He left the house?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Your friend- Ginny, I think? He said she called and told him you'd be able to come get him once you woke up."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course she did, she's always on me for not getting out of the house enough. Sorry, Luna, but it looks like I'll need to take a rain check."

"Don't worry about it, Dear", Luna said, her serene manner more pronounced now, "Though I'll certainly be taking you up on it. But I should get back to the shop now, anyway. You know how it is in the summer, a whole bunch of schoolchildren need their first wands."

Hermione nodded. "Makes sense. Well, do tell Mr. Ollivander hello from me. Safe travels." Luna grasped Hermione's hand, and then she was gone. As soon as the fire died back down to orange, Hermione turned to Sam, any trace of a smile long gone from her face.

"Where is he?" she demanded. Under different circumstances, Sam might be amused- why was she so mad at him, what had he done? Other than knocking her out, that was.

"Said he was going to get a cheeseburger. Probably just drove towards town, he isn't picky about burgers."

She sighed, then pulled out her wand. Sam had just had time to wonder if she was planning on cursing him with it when she mumbled something.

" _Point Me, Dean Winchester._ " The wand started to spin until it finally rested flat on her wand, resolutely facing one particular direction. Hermione sighed. "Well, it's a start." She looked at him sharply. "Can you, at least, be trusted to stay here by yourself?"

Sam nodded. "Um, yes, ma'am."

She couldn't help it. She smiled a bit at that. "Alright, then. I'm going to go get your brother. Stay here. I'm serious!"

And suddenly, she was gone with a loud _crack_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The part of the story I wrote years ago ends in the middle of this chapter, no prizes for guessing where, though I do think I've done a decent job at disguising the transition. I don't know if I ought to be embarrassed that my writing style isn't too discernibly different than it was at age fourteen.

Son of a bitch, Hermione really did live in the middle of nowhere. Dean must've been driving fifteen minutes before he even saw another building. Hermione had said she was close enough to walk to work, and he knew that the high school was in the middle of town, so he had assumed she lived in the suburbs. It seemed he had failed to account for the fact that she was a witch, and could surely use any number of methods to make her walk to work quicker. He was ready to jump for joy when he finally started seeing regular buildings, his stomach was grumbling rather fiercely by now.

He had put the car in park in the parking lot of a diner that looked to be about his speed when he heard someone breathing just behind his ear. Instinctively, he reached for his gun, but then he caught the flash of a brown eye in the rearview mirror.

"Hermione?" he asked. Jesus, she looked pissed.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she answered,"Leaving the house like that? You knew you wouldn't be able to find it again, are you a bloody idiot?"

"I… the woman in the fireplace said…"

"I know she did", Hermione cut him off, and Dean got the feeling that this time, some of the annoyance in her voice wasn't directed towards him, "But still, have some sense. What exactly was your plan? Wander around town until I came to get you?"

"Well… that sounds about right", he said. She rolled her eyes, though he did catch the beginnings of a smile forming at her eyes. She couldn't stay mad at him for long, pretty girls never could.

"While we're here, you want a cheeseburger?" he asked, gesturing to the diner. "Because I'm starving, and I didn't come all the way out here for nothing."

She rolled her eyes, but he got the feeling she was amused. "No, I don't want a cheeseburger. Some of us care if we get a heart attack."

"Oh, come on, Sweetheart", he said, and he couldn't help but notice that her eyes softened just a little bit at the nickname, "They're not going to have any of that rabbit food you've got at your house at this place. Come on, get a burger with me."

She sighed. "Alright, then. You go in and get it though, I'm staying here. I don't like crowded places."

He flashed her a grin before stepping out of the car and walking into the diner. As he left, he idly hoped the car wasn't gone when he got back, with her in it.

* * *

He emerged fifteen minutes later with two burgers in takeout boxes, looking quite pleased with herself. Hermione had to suppress a smile. What was wrong with her? Sure, the American hunter was attractive. But he was a friend, and a colleague, and that was it. He'd come to her because he needed help with something, that was all. Though, she realized with a jolt, she still wasn't sure what that something was. He'd been here for almost a full day, and she still didn't know why she'd been called.

"Dean, why did you-" she started to ask as soon as he pulled open the car door, but he cut her off.

"Got you a plain burger, no cheese, no nothing", he said, "Let's not eat in the parking lot, though. Come on, I know a spot."

"Dean…" she tried again, but again, she was interrupted.

"Don't worry, Hermione", he said, and that slight Southern lilt in his voice becomes much more pronounced as he said her name, and she couldn't help but shiver a bit, "I'll get you right home afterwards. Unless you've got an appointment with another head in a fireplace?"

She laughed outright at that one. "No, no", she conceded. "Alright then, Dean. Take me somewhere nice." He smiles at her and presses the gas, and they're off.

* * *

"Somewhere nice" turned out to be a nearby dock. The lake was sort of brown, but it was a nice view nevertheless. He handed her her burger, which was a bit cold, but she had to admit it wasn't terrible. In fact, she had to remind herself several times that it would give her a heart attack, and she ought not to enjoy it too much, lest she become addicted.

"I like your lake", she said, offhand. He jumped.

"Not my lake", he said, "Just…. Just a lake."

"Still, it's nice." She leaned back in her seat, wondering if she could get away with resting her feet on his dashboard. She guessed she probably could. "Ron and I lived near a lake."

"You never told me that", he said, but she didn't really hear him. She was lost in her memories, the way she always got when she thought about Ron.

"It wasn't a very big lake, but we had a lake at school, and it reminded us of that lake. Of course, that lake had a giant squid in it, and merpeople, and a million other creatures, and we couldn't very well get any of those things, so really, it was just a duck pond. Had some grindylows, though. Couldn't swim in it, damn things wouldn't leave us alone if we tried.

"We were actually thinking of putting an enchanted island in the middle, before… before everything. You know, a place to sit and have lunch. I remember we had this big argument, he wanted to put a glass house on it, for bad weather, and I thought that was stupid, we could just charm the weather so it would always be nice. We had the ugliest fight over it... but we were always, fighting, I suppose, from the day we met. Now, I… when I…. have nightmares… sometimes we're in the lake. And… and we're on the island, but then it disappears, and I make it back to shore, but… but Ron doesn't, and I keep thinking that if only there's been a glass house on the island, we could've hidden in it, and he would've lived, and I… oh, Merlin, I'm sorry." She hastily rubbed her hand against her eyes, trying to hide her tears. She was a leaky faucet around this man, really.

But he only nodded, hesitant. "I… I still have nightmares about my mom, too."

She looked up sharply. "What happened to your mom?"

He swallowed. He had never talked about this with anyone, not even with Sam, not really. "I… she… died. Was murdered, actually. When I was four. By… by a demon."

Hermione hadn't noticed, but she'd put her hand over his, sitting on the center console. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

He wanted to shrug, to say that it was no big deal, but he couldn't. All he could manage was a rather choked-sounding, "Thanks, Hermione."

The two of them sat like that, hand-in-hand in his car, for the rest of the afternoon, until golden rays of dying sunlight started to peak through the windshield.


	5. Chapter 5

It is dark, by the time they get home. They find Sam in the front hall, pacing back and forth.  
  
“What the hell was that?” he asks Dean as soon as they return, “It takes that long to get a hamburger?”

“Don’t worry about it, Sammy”, Dean says as Hermione blushes, very slightly. “Just… just go find something to do on the case, okay?”

“Do what, exactly? Not to accuse, but I suspect you two weren’t exactly talking about the case on that little outing.”

“We started”, Hermione says before Dean can say anything, “But we didn’t… didn’t get too far. Why don’t we sit down in the kitchen and talk? I don’t know about where you two are from, but I was always taught it was rather rude to stand around by the door.”

They move into the kitchen, and Hermione, out of habit, waves her wand to put the kettle on. Even though they’ve both seen it plenty of times by now, both Winchesters are visibly unnerved by that small bit of magic.

“Oh, grow up, you two”, she says, waving her wand as tea cups start flying about. In under a minute, a tea tray is on the table, complete with sugar, milk and three teacups.

“So”, she says, adding sugar to her tea, “Tell me about your case.”

Dean clears his throat. “Well, there’s been some…. strange occurrences, even for us. We can’t figure out what’s causing them. Figured it had something to do with…. your world.”

Hermione sips her tea. “What sort of strange occurrences?”

“Fog”, Sam says. Hermione tilts her head questioningly. “And more!” he quickly adds, “Feelings of hopelessness… memory loss… heightened suicide rates…”

She looks up sharply. “In Salem?”

The brothers share a look.

“Yeah”, says Dean, “How did you know that?”

“Because we’re on it too”, she replies, “MACUSA, that is. And the Ministry. Not that I’m employed by either. But they asked me to help. Just research, I don’t want to go near the bloody things.”

“What things?” Dean asks. Hermione shudders.

“They’re called Dementors. They’re invisible, to Muggles”, she says, clear apprehension in her voice, “But you can still feel them. They’re like… like pain, personified. They’ll make you feel like you’ll never be happy again, like you can’t remember one good thing that’s ever happened in your life. And if… if they’ve got reason… if you can’t get away…. They’ll Kiss you.”

“Kiss you?” Sam asks. Hermione fixes him with a very serious stare.

“Suck out your soul through your mouth. You won’t die, they won’t take your heart or lungs or anything. But you’ll be nothing, and you’ll never be anything again, the Kiss destroys your soul. It’s far worse than death, the Kiss. I… we thought all the Dementors were destroyed, after the last War. But it seems some of them weren’t. And now someone’s… someone’s controlling them again. And the only person who was ever really able to do that was…. was Voldemort.”

“That’s…. that’s the man who led the dark side during the war? He’s back?”

Hermione shakes her head. “Yes, that’s him, but no, he isn’t back. He can’t be, we’re sure of that. But it could be…. Someone lose to him. Someone…. someone like the people who…. the people who killed my husband.” She’s shaking, she realizes, shaking like it’s absolutely freezing, but it’s summer. She tries to sip her tea, to warm herself up, but it doesn’t help.

Suddenly, Dean puts a hand on her shoulder, and she relaxes, a bit. A friendly touch, Hermione tells herself, he’s just being friendly, and she needn’t feel bad about leaning into it. She takes a deep breath.

“Anyway”, she says, “Definitely not your kind of case. You lot don’t even need to worry about it. We’ll take care of it.”

“No, we want to help!” Dean interjects immediately. Hermione smiles.

“That’s sweet”, she says, “But you can’t. I mean that, you really can’t. You can’t see the creatures, and besides, the only way to fight them is with a magic charm. You can’t even help on the research, not really. I went to school in my world for seven years and worked for our Ministry, and still, the specifics of it are difficult for even me to understand. No, it’s best that you just move onto another case. I daresay you’ve got plenty.”

Both of them are silent for a moment.

“Oh”, Dean finally says, rather quietly, for him. He finally takes a sip of the tea in front of him, spitting most of it back out a moment later. “Jesus Christ, why is it so hot?”

“Charmed teacup”, she says, “Most of us are tough enough to take our tea hotter than lukewarm, Dean.” She smiles at him, but it is a bit strained.

“Well”, Sam finally says, sensing the tensions, “Guess we better…. Better get going, then. What about Iowa, Dean, you were mentioning something about a possible spirit there…”

“What?” Dean says, a bit stupidly. He flushes. “Oh, yeah, Iowa. Good… good idea. Let me just…. Just get the keys. And, um, sorry, Hermione, do you remember if I brought anything in with me? Just don’t want to forget anything, you know, since we won’t be able to find the house again if we do…”

“Oh, just stay the night”, she finally interjects, perhaps a bit more roughly than she’d meant to. She schools her features into something more dignified. “I mean, it’s dark out there”, she says, “And… and I haven’t made pancakes in a while, you know? Been wanting an excuse to try them again. Go on then, I have extra bedrooms, I won’t make you sleep on the couch again.”

Sam gives her a knowing look before mumbling something about going to get his bag out of the car. As he leaves, Dean flashes her a grin, and she knocks over a teacup, just barely managing to catch it with magic before it shatters on the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

He spends the night in a guest room that he thinks has to have been magically altered, because it is far too large to reasonably fit in a normal home this size. As soon as he steps out in the hallway, however, the room appears to be of normal size, looking through the door. It's as if she's distorted it somehow. Stepping a bit more carefully through the rest of the house, he make this way down to the kitchen, where he smells pancakes. Rather than finding Hermione, though, he finds only a note sitting on the stove.

_Dean,_

_In the library doing Dementor research. Pancakes are in the bread box. There's a stasis charm on them, they should be fine. Don't touch anything._

_Hermione_

He notes, with a bit of a dumb grin, that nowhere in her note does she mention him leaving. He knows he has to, probably today. Honestly, it's probably better to just slip out while she's researching and never bother her again. But she didn't mention it, and somehow, that makes it alright to stay for a bit, in his mind. He pulls the pancakes from the breadbox and grudgingly admits to himself that they're pretty good, considering they were made by a Brit.

* * *

She hears him come down the stairs all the way from the library, smiles when she hears him rustling about in the kitchen. It's a bit distracting from her research, but really, she was already distracted from her research, so she doesn't mind much. It will be easier, once he's gone, to focus on what's important. So why doe she feel such a deep pain in her gut when she imagines him leaving?

She is being deliberately obtuse, she knows it. She is telling herself he is a good friend and that she's happy to see him again, and that's that. After all, isn't it disrespectful, to love again after Ron? He'd died for _her_ , after all. And Dean, bless him, was an idiot. A lovable idiot, sure, but an idiot, a distraction she didn't have time for.

 _You used to call Ron an idiot too_ , she thinks to herself, and she is so unnerved by the thought that she doesn't even notice that someone has entered her library, even though her wards send a bit of a chill down her spine. In a move very uncharacteristic of her, she doesn't notice the intruder at all until it is too late.

An ear-piercing scream pulls her out of her stupor. She looks up, and Dean is on the floor, one hand clutched around a copy of _The Darkest Arte._

" _Bloody Hell_ ", she mutters to herself, jumping to her feet. She points her wand at her throat and magnifies her voice before yelling, "Sam! _SAM!"_

The younger Winchester bursts into the room, a gun drawn. He lets it fall when he surveys the scene.

"In my bathroom upstairs, there's a white medicine cabinet", she says breathlessly. He nods, one eye on his brother, still moaning in pain on the floor. "The emergency password is Ron. Get me the smallest green potion and the second largest blue potion. Now! Go!" Sam nods, turning on his heel and bolting out of the room. Forcing herself to keep calm, Hermione kneels next to Dean and sets about neutralizing the curse on the book for long enough to pull it out of his hand. His eyes stir feebly, and she can tell he's aware of her presence when he tries to speak.

"Shhhh", she murmurs, "Don't speak, Dean, please don't speak. Just lay back, just like that." She manages to pry the book out of his tightly clenched fingers, to her relief. She'd been worried she'd have to use a severing charm.

"I have the potions!" Sam yells, barging back in. Hermione summons them from his hands and pours them directly down Dean's throat, first the blue, then the green. He gives a great shudder, a few strong coughs, and then he goes still.

"Is he…" Sam starts nervously, watching his brother with trepidation, but then Dean speaks.

"Son of a _bitch_ , Hermione", he says, and suddenly she's laughing, but she's yelling at him too, because _how could you be so stupid, I told you half the stuff in here was cursed, why would you touch anything when I told you not to, stupid, stupid, stupid, oh, Merlin, Dean._

But even as she punches him in the arm, berates him for his stupidity, she cannot lie to herself- she knows she was terrified when he'd been hurt. Perhaps a bit more terrified than she should have been about someone who was strictly a friend.

* * *

"I really don't understand how they've done it, Gin", Hermione says, her head in Ginny Weasley's fireplace. Ginny sits on her couch, a cup of tea in her hand. They've been doing this every morning for years now, it's a routine. They trade off on whose turn it is to stick their head in the fire, though. Fair's fair.

Ginny furrows her brows. "No, I haven't found anything either. I mean, by all means, all of the Dementors should have been destroyed. But Harry doesn't think it matters, really."

Hermione cocks her head, tenses her neck as best she can in the fire. "It doesn't matter how they got Dementors?"

Ginny shrugs. "I mean, not really. We know how to fight them, right? And after we've won we can work out if there are any additional Dementors and get those too, can't we?"

Hermione nods, biting her lip. "I suppose that makes sense." She meets Ginny's eyes. "So, when do we move?"

Ginny smiles grimly. "Harry was thinking tomorrow, midday. Should be enough time to rally some Ministry workers and what's left of the old crowd."

Hermione nods. This is it, then. The women sit in silence for a moment before Ginny speaks.

"Your Muggle is still there, isn't he?" she asks. Hermione jumps.

"What makes you say that?" she says sharply. Ginny grins.

"Don't insult me, Hermione. We're fighting Dementors tomorrow without even knowing how they got here, but you're not even fighting me on anything. I mean, you're calmer than I've seen you since… since Ron died, I suppose."

Hermione gulps. "You don't mind, then? That I might be… thinking about… seeing someone else. Not that I am, you know, seeing him", she adds hastily.

Ginny rolls her eyes. "Please, Hermione. I don't mind at all, and Ron wouldn't either. I don't know where you got this idea that everyone wants you to wallow in misery for the rest of your life."

"It's not like that", Hermione starts, but Ginny interrupts her.

"Yes it is, 'Mione. But no matter, as long as you've come to your senses now." Ginny flashes her one of her mischievous smiles, the one that reminds Hermione she is Fred and George's sister. "So, how far along are you two?"

Hermione blushes. "It's not… I mean… we're just friends."

"Tell him you want to be more than that, then", Ginny says. "You know. Just in case you get your soul sucked out tomorrow."


	7. Chapter 7

It was easy, really, for Hermione to slip away. Dean had been up early, before Sam, when she'd walked Ito the kitchen. All she had had to do was bite her lip, look a bit worried, and tentatively make up some nonsense about the curse from the book possibly lying dormant in his bloodstream. He'd fought her, of course, but in the end he'd had no real choice but to agree to lie down for a few hours. He always did what she wanted in the end, she had noticed. He fought her on everything, but in the end, he would do what she wanted. Sort of like… like Ron had.

She had pushed that thought away as soon as it had come. She had a mission to focus on.

Sam had been a touch more difficult to distract. He didn't trust her like Dean did, certainly didn't… fancy her like Dean might. For a moment, she had considered just stunning him and leaving a potion that Dean could administer when he woke up. But that would tip them both off, and she wanted as much time as possible before they figured out where she went. If she got lucky, she'd be able to get to Salem, fight off the Dementors, and return here in time for dinner. Dean would be furious, but some things couldn't be helped. So, she had to distract Sam somehow, it was the only way.

He liked books, was fascinated by her collection, she could tell. In the end, she had brought out an old first year textbook of hers and handed it to him, warning him very sternly to be careful with it and giving him strict instructions to take very careful notes. From what she had seen when she had glanced over his shoulder, his notes were as thorough as her own would've been. He had been so completely engrossed in the textbook that he hadn't questioned it when she had stood up abruptly and said she needed to run some errands, that she needed some potions ingredients. He'd only nodded and continued reading.

Now, she stood at the doorway to her guest bedroom, invisible. Dean wasn't asleep, she hadn't expected him to be. There was nothing really wrong with him, after all, and he was the restless type. Still, he lay resolutely on the mattress, staring at the ceiling, because she'd told him to. He'd slipped his shoes off, and now lay above the covers, his hands crossed over his chest. He really was attractive, she was able to admit to herself, under the cover of invisibility. He might be an idiot, but he was also sweet, and strong, and good, she was sure of that.

She knew she shouldn't think like this. It wasn't as if it could work out, no matter what Ginny had said in the fireplace. He was a nomadic monster hunter, she was a chemistry teacher in some town in the middle of nowhere. Sure, she had some… side jobs… but her life was here, in her little cottage and with her students. No, her life had been in that little house on the lake that she has shared with Ron, all those years ago, and some American hunter wasn't going to change that. She had to let him go. He should've left days ago, really, it had been cruel to keep him around, had been cruel to give him a way to contact her in the first place. When she returned from fighting the Dementors, she resolved, she'd tell him to get out and take his brother with him, and she'd never answer anything from him again. Yes, that was a good plan.

Without thinking, she makes a move towards him. A floorboard creaks as she does.

"Sam?" he asks, jumping. He appears to be reaching for something at his hip, looking for a weapon that isn't there. "Hermione?"

Rather than answering, Hermione tiptoes away as quietly as she can, making her way down the stairs and out the back door, so the opening and closing of it wouldn't be seen from the kitchen. She walks as quickly as she can to the limits of her wards, her head low and her gait even. Keeping her face and mind as blank as possible, she turns on the spot and thinks of Salem, and then she's gone.

* * *

"Sam?" Dean asks, walking into the kitchen. At Hermione's insistence, he'd spent a few hours lying down, even though he'd felt fine. She had been worried about curse aftereffects, or something. There'd been no clock in the room, so he'd stayed still as long as he could manage before finally venturing back out into the house. From the kitchen table, Sam looks up.

"Yeah?" he asks, flipping through a book. Dean narrows his eyes.

"Oh, so you're allowed to look through her magic spell books but I'm not, is that it?" he asks, somewhat heated. Sam gives him a pointed look over the pages.

"Considering this one isn't cursed, and I asked permission first, yeah, that's right", he says. "If you want a magic spell book of your own, go ask your girlfriend."

He blushes. "She's not my girlfriend", he finds himself saying. Sam mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, "yeah, whatever" before turning back to the book.

"She's not!" Dean insists, but Sam isn't listening anymore. Huffing, Dean turns to go find Hermione. Maybe he can come up with an excuse to stay and help her a bit longer. She's got Sam doing some sort of research, clearly they can be useful. Not that he wants to stay for her, of course, he just wants to solve the case, is all. He doesn't like leaving cases unsolved. It has absolutely nothing to do with Hermione.

As he turns, though, he realizes he has absolutely no idea where she is. "Sam?" he asks, looking back at his brother. Sam huffs a bit.

"Yes, Dean?" he asks, a bit exasperated.

"Where is Hermione?"

"Oh", Sam responds, "She said she was going out for a couple of things. Potions ingredients, or whatever."

"Did she say when she'd be back?" he asks. Sam smirks.

"What, you miss her?"

"Don't be stupid", he responds immediately, "Just gotta ask her some things."

"Well, no, then", says Sam, "She came back here and gave me this book right after you went down and then she said she'd be back soon."

For a moment, Dean considers just nodding and going along with this. Makes sense, he supposes. But as he turns to go back upstairs, maybe find some other case to work on, the gears in his head start to turn. Really, he hadn't needed to lie down this morning. He'd felt better as soon as she'd poured those potions down his throat, and there were no aftereffects in the days since the curse. And Hermione had insisted that she didn't need their help with any research, that they wouldn't understand her spell books. Why would she give one to Sam…

If not to distract him.

So she could get away.

"Salem", he says, "She's gone to Salem!"

"What?" asks Sam, confused.

"To fight those Dementors! She's going alone! She just didn't want me following her!" And suddenly, he's flying through the house, looking for his car keys.

"Dean, stop!" Sam yells after him. He stops in his tracks and turns to look at his brother, irritated.

"What is it, Sam?"

"You can't fight those things!" Sam says quickly, "She told you, remember? You can't even see them, what are you going to do?"

"Don't know", Dean replies, starting to move again, "But I'll figure it out. I have to, Sammy. Stay here. Don't touch anything." And with that, he's out the front door, on his way to Salem.


End file.
